


Intermission

by frith_in_thorns



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frith_in_thorns/pseuds/frith_in_thorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene for 4x02. Neal's injury catches up to him, but Peter and Mozzie are there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission

The second cocktail turned out to be a mistake. Or perhaps it was just the strain of everything catching up with him all at once. In any case, Neal found the world suddenly beginning to feel not as steady as it had been, a wave of dizziness welling up through him as the ground seemed to soften and lurch. 

_Crap._ He scanned for someplace he could sit, but he'd already left it too late, and he staggered woozily. His vision was going grainy.

He made a grab for the edge of the table, locking his arms against it. His legs — the bad and good both — were shaky and barely able to take his weight, his knees trembling and threatening to fold.

"Neal?"

Peter's voice unaccountably seemed to be very close and very far away at the same time. Neal found himself breathing very fast and shallowly.

"Neal, are you okay?"

His eyes weren't making sense of anything, and he pressed them tightly shut. "Think… need to sit down," he mumbled.

"I think you need to _lie_ down," Mozzie's voice argued.

Someone — Peter — grabbed him beneath his arms, and Neal slumped bonelessly. Peter made a protesting sound at suddenly being the only thing stopping him from collapsing completely.

"Help me with him," Peter demanded.

"Neal, come on, don't do this," Mozzie said. His voice faded in and out, like a radio being tuned.

Neal tried to mumble an apology, to say he knew they had work to be doing, but he wasn't quite sure what words were managing to come out of his mouth. If any.

Nor was Peter, to judge by the way he was shushing Neal gently. Then there was _moving_ , and that was just too much for Neal, increasingly dizzy and confused, to cope with.

-

He opened his eyes to a mosaic of startlingly green leaves against a blue sky. There was something cool and damp against his forehead.

Peter shifted into his field of view, looking anxious. "Neal? Are you back with us?"

"Hi," Neal said. He realised that Peter was wiping his face with a cool cloth. He felt a little embarrassed about that, but mostly grateful. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Mozzie said. Neal turned his head to look at him. He was being stern, which meant that although he was worried about Neal in general, he wasn't immediately so. He held out a large glass of what looked like orange juice. "Here. Drink it."

"What's in it?" Neal asked.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Oranges," he said. "What were you expecting?"

Neal sat up before he could remember to take it slowly, and everything lurched and began spinning again. He groaned, and began to list to one side.

Peter grasped Neal's shoulders firmly and guided him back down — he had only just realised that he was lying on a bench. There was a cushion beneath his head.

"Still here?" Peter asked.

"Mmm." The concern on Peter's face made him think he should elaborate. "Don' feel so good."

Mozzie huffed. "You certainly don't look it. This whole 'turn white and fall over' thing doesn't really work on you."

"Mozzie," Peter chided, but Neal managed a shaky grin.

Mozzie subsided, and reverted to again waving the glass of juice at Neal. "You still need to drink this. You're dehydrated, and the electrolytes will be good for you."

"We shouldn't have let him have the alcohol," Peter muttered. He looked like he was feeling guilty about that.

Mozzie airily waved that suggestion away. "It's a painkiller."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Neal, are you ready to try again? Slowly, now."

Neal was still feeling rather woozy, but with Peter's arm carefully supporting his head he was able to sit up just enough to sip from the glass which Mozzie held for him. He wasn't allowed to lie down again until he'd finished it all, by which time he was beginning to feel a bit better.

"I'll be alright in a minute," he said. "I have to —"

"No, you don't," Peter interrupted. "You're not going to do anything except lie there quietly, and rest."

"Agreed," Mozzie said.

Neal had the distinct feeling that he was being ganged up on. But he didn't really feel up to much argument.

"You'll need your energy later," Mozzie said. "Give yourself time to recover."

Neal nodded reluctantly, knowing both that Mozzie was right, and that his body wasn't really giving him a choice in the matter. "I'll be good," he promised.

Peter patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Shut your eyes," he said. "We're waiting."

"Okay, okay," Neal grumbled, and closed his eyes obediently. It was an immediate relief.

He could hear Peter where he still crouched protectively next to him, his breathing slow and steady. And he could feel the caring weight of Mozzie's gaze.

Safe, he slept.


End file.
